He Wore a Pair of Silver Wings
by Briar Rose
Summary: B'Elanna gives Tom a special gift for his birthday. Not THAT kind of gift, it's rated PG, remember.


Title: He Wore a Pair of Silver Wings  
Author: Briar Rose  
Email: boo.roo@sympatico.ca  
Rating: PG  
Part: 1/1  
Date: October 2000.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters, the holodeck, and all things Star   
Trek are owned by Paramount/Viacom. Please don't sue me. This   
story is for fun, not profit.  
  
Summary: Takes place after Blood Fever, but before Tom and   
B'Elanna are a couple. Minor spoilers for Blood Fever and Faces.   
Blink, and you'll miss them. Tom is having a birthday and   
B'Elanna gives him a present. Rated PG, remember.  
  
Thank you to PJ in NH for her guidance and encouragement and to   
Fred for the research.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tom Paris sighed softly and leaned back in a beach chair, a   
pleased expression on his face. He hadn't wanted a real party,   
but a few well wishers had stopped by the holodeck anyway, offering   
congratulations and a few presents. They sat in a very small   
pile beside his chair. His last official birthday party had been   
in honour of his eleventh birthday; cake, balloons, cousins, the   
whole deal. Now, almost two decades later, he couldn't remember   
many details, but he did recall that his father had taken a   
shuttle from Starfleet HQ and after the party they had gone for a   
short ride, young Tommy at the helm. He still remembered the   
thrill, the joy of having that old shuttle respond to his   
commands. Now, here he was, flying Voyager. He doubted his   
father would believe it...hence, the smile.  
  
Neelix's resort programme had become a fast favorite among the   
crew, and the holodeck was filling up quickly. If he closed his   
eyes, he could pretend that he was on shore leave and the   
holographic sun was real. He heard the soft click of boots on the   
slate tiles and he knew it was her. He knew her stride, the sound   
of her footfalls as they hit the deck. His smile broadened. How   
she managed to walk in those heels, let alone crawl around   
Jefferies tubes he had no idea.  
  
"How'd you find me?" he asked, as her shadow fell over him.  
  
"I just followed my nose, you do rather stand out in a crowd," she   
answered with a chuckle, her eyes dropping to his surfer-special   
shirt. "May I ?" She nodded to the chair beside him.  
  
"Be my guest." He sat up to face her, their knees almost   
touching. "Is that for me?" He gestured to the brightly coloured   
box she clutched on her lap.  
  
"Yes -"   
  
"Why Lieutenant, I must say you look lovely this evening, though a   
trifle over dressed," Neelix interrupted with a wink. "Would you   
care for a drink, its an old Earth delicacy called rum punch." He   
offered B'Elanna what appeared to be a hollowed out pineapple   
shell with a gaudily coloured paper umbrella floating in it, along   
with several cherries.  
  
She wrinkled her nose slightly at the sickly sweet aroma. "Sorry,   
Neelix, I have to get back to Engineering. I just stopped by to   
give this to Tom." B'Elanna shook her head slowly, her hair   
swinging around her chin. She eyed the proffered cup as if it   
might jump at her.  
  
"Well, we'll be running the resort until 02:00 in case you change   
your mind," he answered, then wandered away in search of his next   
prey. Tom found himself grinning again. She did look lovely; her   
uniform a little rumpled, hair messy as if she'd run her hands   
through it many times in exasperation. He remembered   
the silky softness of her hair, the way it flowed through his   
fingers. Sakari. A lifetime ago.  
  
"So -" he held the note," do I get to see what's in the box or   
not?"  
  
"I found it in the computer's data base. It's from Earth,   
America, mid twentieth century. I know you like that time period,   
so I thought you would like it. But then I did some more research   
and I realized that it's about 15 years too early. It's odd how   
much a country's identity can change in so little time, isn't it?"   
She was rambling, the words almost falling on top of each other   
trying to get out. Tom found himself grinning again. "I would   
have replicated something more suitable, but I haven't had the   
time, so if you don't like it I can just recycle it and get you   
something else." She apparently ran out of air and snapped her   
mouth closed. B'Elanna kept a firm grip on the box. A little too   
firm, one of the corners had started to give under pressure from   
her thumb.  
  
"How about you hand it over so I can decide for myself," Tom   
suggested, wrapping his large hands over her smaller ones, trying   
to dislodge her grip before it became a moot point and the present   
had to be recycled. She reluctantly gave in and let go. *Score   
one for Tommy boy* he thought, eyeing the box. He balanced   
it in one hand, noting its lack of weight. He tried shaking it   
gently, but it only made a soft whump as the contents slid from   
one end of the box to the other.  
  
"Just open it already!" B'Elanna hissed, trying not to shout in   
exasperation.  
  
Tom grinned again, he did love getting a rise out of her. He   
carefully slid the wide blue ribbon off the box, and looped it   
around B'Elanna's neck before she could protest, arranging the   
large bow to lie against her breasts. "Very - tropical," he   
decided. She sighed. She was almost twitching in anticipation,   
so he naturally drew it out as long as possible. He eyed the box   
again. He'd thought it was coloured with random splashes of blue   
and white, but closer inspection revealed a sky scene. What his   
mother liked to call robin's egg blue with fluffy white clouds.   
*Curiouser and curiouser* he thought. He gripped the lid with his   
thumbs and lifted it off with a flourish, spinning it several   
times on his index fingers, then placing it in B'Elanna's lap.   
This time she snorted softly. Their eyes locked for several   
seconds and she moved to make a grab for the box, so he quickly   
looked inside. The ever-present grin seemed to slide off his face   
leaving him slack jawed, mouth slightly open as he stared at her   
gift.  
  
B'Elanna twisted her hands together, taking in his expression.   
"You don't like it," she stated flatly. "I told you it was all   
wrong, I'm sorry -"  
  
"No, no, B'Elanna it's... I love it, it's perfect." He slowly   
drew the hat out of the box, fingers caressing the soft khaki   
cloth, his thumb sliding along the brim.   
  
"I just remembered what you'd told me about summers when you were   
a little kid. I thought a hat would be appropriate under the   
circumstances." Her eyes flickered to the remainder of his hair,   
more like stubble now. Tom laughed and she giggled with him,   
*I've never heard her giggle before* Tom thought. He was   
entranced.  
  
"I guess Sam did get a little carried away, but she insisted on   
making it even..."   
  
B'Elanna fingered her own longer locks. "I sometimes wish we had   
a proper barber on this ship. Sam offered to trim mine, but I   
don't know now."   
  
"No!" Tom interrupted. "I like it long, it suits you."   
  
Sakari, the word hung unspoken between them.  
  
B'Elanna dropped her gaze to the hat. "It's a pilot's hat from   
what Earth history refers to as the Second World War. American   
pilots apparently wore this colour," B'Elanna explained. He   
touched the silver wings reverently, with a ghost of a smile. How   
did she know him so well, he wondered. "Well, are you going to   
try it on or not?"   
  
He lifted the hat to his head and settled it over what was left of   
his hair.  
  
"Its a perfect fit, B'Elanna, how did you guess?" He was amazed.  
  
She lifted an eyebrow at his tone. "I just asked the replicator   
for an extra large," she dead panned. His eyes held hers a moment   
too long and suddenly the playful atmosphere was gone, almost   
replaced by something else. B'Elanna jumped to her feet and took a step back.  
  
"I really should get back to Engineering, there's no telling what   
Joe and Harry are doing with that simulation."  
  
Tom stood and faced her holding her shoulders lightly so she   
couldn't get away. His palms slid down her arms stopping to hold   
her hands in his. He remembered the softness of her skin, and his   
gaze lingered on her eyes, her mouth. She acted so tough, but   
everything about her was soft. He remembered... "This is   
probably the best gift anyone has ever given me." he said finally.   
"Thank you."  
  
He leaned down, moving his face to hers, his breath stirring the   
hair at her temple. Gently, he slid his lips along her cheekbone   
stopping a centimetre from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were   
closed, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in his scent. He   
knew what she was doing... she remembered too.   
  
Her combadge suddenly came to life with a loud beep and B'Elanna   
leaped away from Tom as if she'd been prodded with a Klingon   
painstick.   
  
"Engineering to Torres." Joe Carey's evident frustration came   
through in the short sentence. She tapped the badge at her chest,   
her eyes locked with Tom's.  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"We're reading a cascade failure down here, Chief. Sorry to break   
up the party, but this just isn't working."  
  
"That's all right, I was just heading back anyway. Torres out. I   
really should go now, Tom. I'll try to spring Harry soon so he   
can come up here. He has a gift for you too." She wasn't quite   
babbling this time.   
  
"Will you join him?"  
  
Another shake of her head, her hair swung around her jaw. "I   
doubt it, but I'll try."  
  
"How about a game of pool after shift tomorrow, I can dust off   
Sandrine's. I promise, no Gaunt Gary and no Gigolo."  
  
"What about that creature that used to hang off your arm," she   
replied, eyebrow arched.  
  
"Ricky's gone, too. I promise, its just you, me and Sandrine to   
keep us honest."  
  
"You're on. I hope you have some replicator rations left, Paris,"   
she tossed over her shoulder as she turned to leave, "because I'm   
going to kick your butt. Don't think I'll go easy on you because   
its your birthday."  
  
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Torres," he murmured to   
himself, stretching out in the deck chair again and pulling the   
brim of his new pilot's hat down to shield his eyes from the sun.   
He wondered idly if the Captain would let him wear it on the   
bridge. His grin was firmly in place.  
  
  
Fin.  
  
  
This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so feedback, constructive   
or otherwise, would be greatly appreciated. If you didn't like   
it, don't blame PJ in NH, blame me. Send all comments to   
boo.roo@sympatico.ca  
  
  
Note: the title was inspired by a WWII song, He Wears a Pair of   
Silver Wings. I don't know who wrote it, but it was sung by Dinah   
Shore. Perhaps she wrote it as well.  



End file.
